


Real Mature

by ireadhpinenochian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 07:24:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3479432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ireadhpinenochian/pseuds/ireadhpinenochian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prank war gone wrong. Dean was the one who started it, so there was no way in hell Sam was going to let him be the one to finish it as well. That being said, he could have thought out his last prank a little more carefully...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real Mature

“Real mature, Dean.” Sam gave him a bitchface as he sat down across from him at the Gryffindor table. His blue tie stood out among the sea of red and gold, but his bright pink hair stood out more. “What did you do to my shampoo?”

Dean burst into raucous laughter, drawing quite a few heads and giggles their way.

“It’s not funny, Dean!” Sam whispered violently, trying to shrink in on himself to hopefully shrink the audience they had garnered. “I’m supposed to meet Jess for a study date later!”

Wiping his eyes, Dean finally managed to settle down. “Why Samantha, you look absolutely gorgeous,” he said. “I don’t see anything that would cause a problem for you on your little date later.”

Sam’s face became even more pinched. “Study date, Dean. Study.”

“All dates are study dates to a Ravenclaw,” Dean replied with a wave of his hand. “You’re all a bunch of nerds.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “How do I reverse it?”

“You mean your big brain hasn’t figured it out yet? You’re a shame to your house, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam,” he replied. “And just tell me. I don’t have time to figure it out.”

Dean opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by the arrival of his best friend (and possible love of his life), Castiel Novak.

“Hello, Dean,” he said in his gravelly voice. He turned to bestow the same greeting upon Sam but then seemed to take in his appearance. “Why is your hair pink?”

“Because my older brother is an asshole,” was the quick response.

Cas tried to cover his small laugh with a cough.

“Seriously, Cas?” Sam flung his hands up in frustration and then upon realizing more eyes were turning towards the commotion, he sunk down as far as he could without sliding off of his seat.

Cas cleared his throat. “I apologize.” He turned to Dean. “Did you replace his shampoo or hex it?”

Dean hummed as he reached for the plate of potatoes in front of him and scooped some onto his plate. “You know, I can’t say I remember.”

“Dean!” Sam hissed. “Come on, I have to meet Jess in like twenty minutes!”

But his older brother just slowly raised a forkful to his mouth and chewed obscenely with the sounds to match. Sam looked to Cas for help, but he was too busy smiling and blushing over Dean’s antics. If Sam wasn’t so terrified of the stories about Azkaban he would have throttled the both of them with their own ties. Instead he kicked Dean under the table.

“Hey, watch it Samsquatch! I’ve got quidditch practice later!”

“Then tell me how to undo this!” he whispered furiously.

“Alright, alright,” Dean grabbed his wand and flicked it. “It was a simple hex.”

Sam grabbed at his still pink strands to see if any change had occurred. “Dean! You’re supposed to undo it!”

“I’m sure a simple finite incantatem would suffice,” Cas cut in before Dean could argue the point.

Sam did as advised and his hair was back to its gleaming chestnut color in no time.

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam sighed. Then he turned to glare at Dean. “I’ll get you back for this. I don’t think you’re going to like what you’ve started.”

\--

Contrary to what Sam had declared, Dean greatly enjoyed what he had started. The following week was filled with dungbombs, jelly leg jinxes, and one particularly nasty hex that turned Cas green for four hours (neither brother was willing to claim ownership over that particular prank).

But this—this one Sam knew would take the cake.

He already had everything set up perfectly so he just waited patiently for his brother to arrive at the Gryffindor table. It didn’t take long.

“Sammy!” Dean’s voice boomed throughout the hall, but the few students awake this early ignored him, too sleepy to focus on anything but their meals. Usually, Dean would be right there with the tired masses, but he had quidditch practice later and that always seemed to put him in a good mood. “Come to try and return the favor for that itching powder?” he asked with a wink, sliding smoothly onto the bench across from Sam.

“Actually,” Sam said. “I’ve come to call a truce.”

“Already?” Dean seemed disappointed, but his ego prevented him from looking at all surprised. “I guess that’s another win in the Dean column, then.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam said. “I guess I’m just too mature for these prank wars, now.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Sammy. I bet you’re just tired of getting embarrassed in front of your little girlfriend.” He grabbed his cup and the jug of orange juice to pour into it.

Sam hid his grin as Dean lifted the cup to his mouth, but before he took a drink he put it down onto the table.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Dean asked.

Sam quickly tried to erase whatever emotion had flitted across his face. “Like what?”

“All weird and happy.”

“A guy can’t be happy to have breakfast with his older brother?” Sam asked, feigning hurt with a hand over his heart and everything.

Dean still eyed him suspiciously, but seemed to let it pass. Unfortunately, instead of picking up his drink again, he began to pile eggs and sausages onto his plate. The amount of food he had amassed made Sam scoff.

“There’s the Sammy I know and love,” Dean said, pointing at Sam’s bitchface with a forkful of eggs. He went through half his plate before he stopped to look at Sam again. “I thought you wanted to have breakfast with me,” he pointed at Sam’s empty plate, “not stare at me while I eat mine.”

Sam rolled his eyes but did scoop a normal sized amount of eggs onto his plate.

“Don’t forget your juice,” Dean said, picking up the jug and pouring Sam a glass for him. “Gotta get your vitamin C.”

“Great, now I’m getting nutritional advice from the guy who only eats fruit that’s baked into a pie.”

Dean shrugged and went back to eating.

Sam could not believe he hadn’t taken a drink yet. Dean almost choked to death on one of the sausages, but ended up coughing his way through it sans orange juice.

Sam was five seconds away from proposing a toast to brotherhood when Dean’s head perked up and he said, “Oh hey, Cas is here.”

Sam turned to watch as Cas stumbled into the Great Hall, eyes still half closed. Both brothers knew that Cas was not a morning person and the only reason he would be up this early on a Saturday was because it was the only time Gryffindor could get to book the quidditch pitch.

“Morning, sunshine,” Dean told him brightly as he slumped into a seat next to Sam.

Cas grunted in reply and poured himself some coffee.

Then finally, finally, Dean picked up his orange juice and took a huge gulp. Sam managed to hide his grin by taking a sip of his drink as well.

“So, Dean,” he said as casually as he could. “Mind if I ask you a question?”

“Only if I can ask you one first,” Dean replied. “Like, what did you try and put in my drink?”

“Veritaserum,” Sam blurted and then smacked his hands over his mouth. His eyes widened in horror as he realized Dean had switched the drinks when his back had been turned.

Dean smirked. “I knew that truce wasn’t real,” he said. “I can read you like a book, Sammy.”

Cas peered at them over his mug, interested enough in their early morning antics to wipe the scowl off of his face.

“So Sam,” Dean started, Sam frantically shaking his head to try and get him to stop. “Veritaserum is some pretty powerful stuff. How’d you get it?”

“Stole it. Don’t ask me any more questions. Please.” His plan had gone horribly wrong. Dean was going to murder him. You see, it would have been funny, hilarious even, if Dean had drunk the potion. Sam had just planned on asking him various questions around Cas, skirting around the fact that Dean had a major crush on him. He wasn’t actually going to make him admit it! He would never! But none of that would matter if Dean asked the wrong question.

“Why did you steal it?”

“To prank you.” Sam widened his eyes as much as they would go and as subtly as he could he tried to get Dean to read his mind about this line of questioning. He nodded his head in Cas’s direction and then at Dean and then shook his head.

Dean’s eyes narrowed and then snapped open. “Sam, you little—“

But what Sam was, none of them got to hear because Cas chose that moment to ask, “What was the prank.”

Sam tried to convey with a look how sorry he was, how terribly, horribly, absolutely sorry he was for ever thinking that this prank wouldn’t backfire on him.

Sam’s hands dropped from where he had been pressing them tightly against his mouth. “I was going to ask Dean dumb questions about his crush to get him back for being mean to me about Jess.”

Cas furrowed his brow and tilted his head to the side in his default expression for confusion. “Dean has a crush?”

Dean literally dove over the table to try and cover Cas’s mouth before he could ask the next question. The jug of orange juice spilled, a plate of eggs was knocked to the floor, and sausages went rolling across the surface of the table, but Dean was still too late.

“Who?”

The answer was whispered, but it was still audible for the entire Great Hall to hear, as everyone had fallen silent to look over at the commotion Dean had made.

“You.”

Dean, face the color of his scarlet quidditch robes he so proudly wore, jumped up from his position half across the table and walked as quickly as his feet would take him out of the Great Hall.

“Sam,” Cas said, his face as serious and intense as it is while studying for finals, “is that true?”

“Yes,” Sam said miserably. “But you weren’t supposed to find out!”

Cas stood up abruptly. “I will take care of this,” he said. “You should hide somewhere before Dean decides he wants to take revenge before the Veritaserum wears off.”

Sam nodded. “Will you tell him I’m sorry?” he asked. “Like seriously, seriously sorry.”

Cas smiled then, wide and gummy. “There will be no need for that, I think.”

“What does that mean?” Sam asked, but Cas was already across the room.

\--

Dean was sitting in the corner of the first empty classroom Cas looked in. He was using one of his hands to prop up his head, the other lazily holding his wand in front of him. He seemed to be trying to practice a hex, but instead a steady stream of pathetic looking snowflakes dribbled out onto an ever growing pile on the floor.

“Dean,” Cas said, taking a step inside the door and closing it behind himself.

The desk he had been sitting at toppled over as Dean shot up to face his best friend. “Cas!” he squeaked, backing up a few paces. “I—what are you doing here?”

Cas took a few steps towards Dean, but that just caused Dean to retreat further. Sighing, Cas stopped and said, “I came to look for you. After what Sam said—“

“Look,” Dean cut in, “I know Sam said it was Veritaserum, but that can’t have been what it was, okay? It was like the opposite or something! A potion to make you lie and can’t tell the truth! There’s gotta be something like that, right?”

“It’s possible, though I’ve never heard of it,” Cas replied and he began walking towards Dean once more, not stopping until he had backed him up against a wall. “I suppose I could ask Professor Slughorn about it, if you really wanted to know.”

“Uh…” Dean’s eyes flicked down to Cas’s lips and then back up to his piercing stare. “Wh—what about, um, maybe this was just all part of Sam’s prank.” He tried next, gaze still flicking back and forth between those chapped lips and those unearthly blue eyes. “You know, pretend like he drank some Veritaserum and then just start lying about stuff.”

“There’s a flaw in that plan,” Cas told him calmly.

“And what—what’s that?”

“He had put it in your drink originally. You switched them and then called him out. So unless you were implicit in his prank on you, that wouldn’t make any sense.”

“No—no sense, right…” Dean could feel Cas’s breath against his mouth, feel the heat coming off of him, he was so close.

“There’s one more thing wrong with that plan,” Cas said.

“Yeah?”

“Well, it’s not something that’s necessarily wrong. I suppose I just dislike the idea of that plan.”

“And—and why would that be?” Dean’s heart was beating so loud he was sure the whole school could hear it, each centimeter that Cas gained sped it up exponentially. He was sure it would burst right out of his chest like in all those muggle cartoons, but Cas just kept coming until his lips brushed against Dean’s.

That was it—he was done. Dean was quite positive that his chest had exploded because Cas was kissing him.

And it was awesome.

So awesome, in fact, that the wand Dean had still been holding had stopped its trickle of snow and instead sent out a rather large and explosive series of sparks, catching one of the desks on fire.

Cas was the first to pull away, smirking at Dean’s blissed out expression.

“You should probably put your wand away,” he told him, voice leaking with laughter.

Dean immediately looked down at his pants. “My wha--?”

Cas burst into laughter.

“I was not making a euphemism, Dean,” he managed to squeeze out between his laughs. “You—“ he pointed behind them, “you set the class on fire.”

Dean’s head snapped up. “I what? Oh shit!” He pushed Cas out of the way and began trying to put the fire out with his wand. “Stop laughing and help me!” he shouted at Cas, who was now doubled over and wheezing.

“I—I’m sorry!” he gasped. “But you—you checked your—“ His sentence was lost to another bout of laughter.

Fire finally out, Dean sauntered back over to Cas. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. It was hilarious. Please stop laughing.”

Cas took in a huge gulp of air and finally managed to straighten up. “Alright, I’m sorry,” he said, but then one look back at Dean’s now blushing face had him laughing all over again. It was another minute before Cas was able to look at Dean, who was watching him sullenly with his arms crossed, without giggling. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “But you are never going to live that down.”

Dean just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Just shut up about it, alright? We have quidditch practice.” He began walking towards the door, Cas hurrying to catch up.

“Afterwards would you like to set the locker room on fire?” Cas asked him, his tone utterly serious.

Dean shoved his shoulder, causing him to stumble a few steps, but he quickly fell back in line next to Dean, this time taking his hand and entwining their fingers. Dean blushed for an entirely different reason.

“Maybe we’ll even have a little fun with both our wands.” The tone was serious again, but this time there was the undercurrent of sincerity that had Dean spluttering and flustered instead of sullen and moping.

\--

Sam finally made it back to his dormitory around nine that night, having spent the whole day hiding from Dean in the library. There was a note lying innocently in the middle of his bed. Nervously, he tiptoed towards it, fearing that anything might set it off and have it blow up in his face or turn him a horrible shade of puce or any number of things Dean’s imagination could come up with. And Dean had a horrifying imagination.

But it was just a note. Sam picked it up gingerly by the corner nonetheless, and read in Dean’s untidy scrawl:

> _Sammy,_
> 
> _Truce for real this time. I think I’m going to be a little too busy to pull pranks on you for a while, so enjoy the free pass, bitch._
> 
> _Dean_

Sam stared at the letter and a small smile curved up the corner of his mouth. “Jerk.”


End file.
